She grabbed her car keys from the hook on the wall and walked into the garage, kicking the door shut behind her. A loud thump instead of the scraping sound of the warped door shutting came from behind her. She turned as if to reprimand the door for not obeying.

Carol Anne stood holding it open. “I’m driving with you. I’ll leave my car here and I promise you can go home when you want.”

“I want to go home now.”

“Get in the car.”

“Okay, okay.”

As they drove the familiar streets of Darby, the company of her best friend and the tree-lined lanes of her hometown soothed Amy. Carol Anne rambled on about an artist who had backed out of the art show when he didn’t receive a front-row spot in the display. “Ego, ego,” Carol Anne said, then she stopped, touched Amy’s shoulder.

“What in the world is that sound?”

“What sound?”

“That eternal dinging noise.”

“Oh, that. I think it’s supposed to warn me when I’m almost out of gas.”

“Well, what does it mean this time?”

Amy glanced down at the dashboard. “Shit, I’m on empty.” She whipped the car into the Texaco station on their right. “I need gas.”

“You need something, all right.”

Amy scrunched her nose at her friend and parked in front of the gas pump. She never let her car get below half a tank. It was a safety rule she taught her kids—one she kept herself with regularity.

Amy stuck the nozzle of the gas pump into the side of the car and noticed for the first time the phallic symbolism of the gas pump filling the car to make it go. What is wrong with me?

She watched the numbers go by and counted with the pump’s click, click, click until it finished.

She paid and climbed back in the car, looking at Carol Anne. “All solved. Let’s go spend money on beautiful and meaningful gifts for our families.”

“Now that sounds like my best friend.”

“Where do you want to go first?”

“Let’s hit the Antique Emporium and go from there—I know I want to buy my adorable husband an antique golf bag for his collection.” Carol Anne pulled a list from her purse. “Got a lot of stuff here to cross off.”

Amy pulled the car out into the street and reached to push the ON button to the stereo to block out the loud thumping noise that seemed to be following the car.

“Now what is that noise?” Carol Anne tilted her head.

“I don’t know. Something at the gas station, I guess.”

Amy turned right onto Magnolia Avenue and punched the gas as a loud, long honk emitted from the Volvo she passed. Her car bumped, jolted to the right. She jerked the wheel to stop the car from sliding off the road.